


Better Than Ice Cream

by Longpig



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, In Which Lotor Tries to be a Gentleman but is Thwarted by Allura's Thirst, Late Night Conversations, Mutual Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, Tragic Mouse Displacement, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, self-saucing galra dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/pseuds/Longpig
Summary: The night after her trial on Oriande, Allura is restless. As she wanders through the darkened castle halls looking for something to satisfy her cravings, she finds she is not the only one unable to sleep...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for strangernatural on tumblr! 
> 
> Takes place shortly after s5e6.

Allura knew what she was doing was wrong. Disgusting. Unnatural, even… And yet, here she was. After all the excitement of her revelation at Oriande, she’d been unable to sleep; and as she lay awake, the temptation had crept up on her, whispering how  _ good _ it would be, how  _ delicious; _ until she could think of nothing else. Clad only in her robe and nightgown, she stole through the darkened corridors, praying that no-one else would be awake to question her nocturnal ramblings. 

The Ancients smiled upon her, and Allura reached her destination unmolested. The room lights were dimmed, but after spending her whole life in the Castle of Lions, she could have found her way around blindfolded. Her mouth watered—she could practically taste it now. So sweet, so creamy; surely just one tiny spoonful couldn’t be so terrible… as long as she didn’t think about where it came from. She opened the freezer, reaching for the unassuming tub that contained the forbidden treasure.  _ Just one spoonful. Just one little scoop _ —

“Good evening, Allura.”

The soft, mellifluous voice caught her off guard, and she jumped back with an undignified yelp, slamming the freezer door shut. As she turned around, Allura could just make out Lotor’s seated form at the kitchen table, the gold of his eyes gleaming faintly in the low light.

“My apologies,” he began, wincing slightly as she tapped a wall panel to increase the illumination to half. “I did not mean to startle you; but neither did I wish for you to think I was lurking in the dark to spy on you.” He flashed her a wan smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  _ He looks tired, _ she thought; and something twinged sharply in her chest. Lotor had removed his gloves and vambraces, and was leaning forward in his seat with his hands folded in front of him on the table, as though perhaps he’d been resting his head there.

“What are you doing here, besides not lurking? Why aren’t you”—for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say ‘in bed’—”sleeping?” Curiosity and concern drew her closer, and she sat down next to him at the bench, her midnight craving all but forgotten.

“Coran had asked your Blue Paladin to show me to a room,” he sighed, with a rueful grimace, “but somehow that turned out to be a supply closet.”

“Oh, for quiznak’s sake!” Allura groaned, exasperated, pinching the bridge of her nose. Lance’s foolishness was becoming ridiculous to the point of embarrassment. It had been bad enough when he was bickering with Keith, but this... “I am so sorry, Lotor. He’s just very… young.”

“It’s harmless. Don’t let it trouble you.” He laced his fingers together and stretched out his arms in front of him, arching his back like a cat. It occurred to her that she had never seen his hands before. Until this moment he had always presented himself fully armoured; even in captivity he had been fastidiously modest. Allura was fascinated, though she tried not to stare; they were slender, graceful, and so very  _ Altean _ , save for the colour, and the slightly pointed nails that were the same hue as his skin.

Since she had allowed herself to think of Lotor as more than Zarkon’s son, she had been finding more and more about him to fascinate her. The graceful, confident way he moved. How his hair flowed behind him when he walked. Those striking violet blue eyes… And of course, his ears, which were  _ exquisite.  _ She had noticed new things about herself as well; such as the warmth that spread through her when he offered her his arm, and the tingle down her spine when he took her hand in his...  

“I suspect I would have had difficulty sleeping anyway, regardless of the environment,” he was saying, unaware of her distracted state.

Refocusing her attention, Allura looked up at him, her brows drawing together as she read the dark, faraway look in his eyes. “What troubles you?” she asked, though she could well hazard a guess. “Oriande?” she prompted, when no answer seemed forthcoming. An almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw confirmed her hypothesis.

Brimming with energy and elation, she’d all but flown out of the temple to find him after her trial, bursting to share their success; but when she’d found him brooding on the steps, she knew that his result had not been the same. She could sense the frustration and disappointment bleeding off him, though he’d mustered a smile and congratulated her triumph. She’d longed to talk to him then, to offer some kind of comfort, but with the Paladins rapidly running out of air aboard the castleship, there hadn’t been time for further conversation.

“What happened?” She gentled her voice, barely above a whisper.

Lotor sighed again, and knotted his hands together on the table. “I don’t want you to think that I am angry, or jealous. I meant what I said on the bridge, Allura. I am happy for you.” He glanced at her with a fleeting smile, then his gaze dropped away. “I never expected that I would even  _ see _ Oriande; but when I was chosen, it was like a dream come true—to be deemed worthy of a sacred Altean place of power I’ve spent centuries wondering about. And then, in the instant it mattered most, I proved myself a true Galra instead. The Guardian, Allura...” He drew a deep breath, his hands now clasped so tightly that his knuckles were nearly white. ”When it attacked me, I panicked… I cut it down. Just like”—he screwed his eyes shut tightly, his lip curling back from his fangs—”just like Narti.”

In truth, she had wondered if that had been the outcome of his trial. She had been raised with Altean values and ideals; but what chance had he stood against centuries of socialization in Galra culture? Allura hesitated only a fraction of a tick before reaching out to lay her hand over his. There was a slight twitch in the already taut muscle of his arm, but he didn’t pull away. Not even a phoeb ago, this familiarity would have been unthinkable, but they had shared so much now. There was a deepening connection Allura couldn’t deny—and increasingly, she found she had no wish to do so. He must feel it as well; he’d never been so open with her before, even on Oriande. “Narti?” she softly echoed, urging him to go on before he could withdraw. The name was unfamiliar to her—was it a person? A place where something unpleasant had happened?

“Another test I failed.” He laughed; a hollow, bitter sound. “She was my friend, until Haggar poisoned her mind and turned her against me,” he continued, his voice tight and strained. “I was forced to… Well, I don’t need to say it.” He gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw.

“How horrible,” she murmured, aghast. This was a fresh hurt, she realized, not a recollection from centuries past. In a flash she recalled seeing his former generals at Haggar’s side at the Kral Zera—three of them.  _ There were four on Ulippa.  _ Small wonder, then, that Lotor refused to acknowledge her as his mother.  _ How many times has she done this, over the millennia?  _ Allura tried to imagine what she would do if one of the Paladins turned against them; if there were no other choice—but it was too abhorrent to contemplate. She repressed a shudder, and nibbled at her bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Finally she settled on “I am so sorry.”

“You had nothing to do with it,” muttered Lotor.

“It’s not an apology. It’s…” She paused for a tick, recalling the traditional Altean words of condolence.  _ “I grieve with thee.” _

He turned his head back toward her, his brow furrowed but his eyes soft, the tension in his frame beginning to ease. “Thank you.” He spoke slowly, as though baffled by her sympathy.

Allura offered him a gentle smile, and gave his hand a squeeze. “You know, I meant what  _ I _ said earlier as well. I couldn’t have done this without you, Lotor—any of it. I wouldn’t have found the compass stone, or figured out how to use it. I never would have found Oriande at all, or understood how to pass the first Guardian’s trial! You were chosen for a reason—you were  _ meant _ to come to Oriande; I’m sure of it!” she averred, holding his gaze. “I was able to reach these heights because you lifted me up. I was… I was so glad to have you there with me.” Her cheeks flushed with the admission.

“That means a great deal to me, Allura.”

The sound of her name on his lips warmed her further. Her heart fluttered against her ribs like a startled bird, and she had to glance away for a tick to compose herself. She curled her hand around his, now that his grip was loosened, and pulled it towards her. “Sharing that— _ oh!”  _ Her words were cut off by a startled gasp as she realized that his nails had extended into long, sharp claws. She looked up, eyes wide, just in time to see his face fall.

“Too much of the Galra for you, Princess?” he sighed, staring down at his own hand with a melancholy cast to his handsome features.

“No, no!” she protested, chagrined. A keen sliver of guilt stung her as she recalled how she had treated him before Zarkon’s death; before she knew he was half Altean. She had dismissed him as just another bloodthirsty Galra, just like his father.  _ I can’t believe I didn’t realize... _ “I was merely… surprised.” Noting his dubious expression, she laced her fingers through his.

“It’s a reflex,” he explained, still guarded, “when startled or stressed…”  _ Perhaps that’s why he always wears those gloves, _ she speculated.

“Well, you needn’t be. Not with me.” She brushed her thumb across his, and smiled when she caught a hint of darker violet creeping up the sides of his face as the apprehension dropped away. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Allura mused aloud.

“You mean since you had me locked in your basement?” A crooked grin spread across his features, pushing tiny crinkles into the corners of his eyes, softening all the sharp angles.

Allura blinked, caught off guard for half a breath. “Yes, I suppose so,” she laughed.

Lotor’s grin widened; his grip on her hand tightened. “A long way indeed.”

There was a low, husky note in his voice that set Allura’s heart spinning, and she found herself captured, unable to look away from those glittering, crystal blue eyes. It was as though she stood at the edge of a fathomless pool, about to let herself fall in. Drawn as by gravity, she leaned closer; tilting her head back to hold his gaze. He smelled like warmed spices and woodsmoke; elemental, compelling. Allura’s chest felt tight, overfull.

“Do you think perhaps we might go...further still?” she faltered, wincing internally at how awkward she sounded.  _ Oh dear. I am woefully underqualified for this. Perhaps now was not the time… _ For a tick Allura held her breath, hopeful and terrified.

His smile faded; melted into something warm, but with an edge of hunger. His hand traveled up her arm, his armour creaking as he shifted nearer to her. Allura reached for him as he leaned in close, closer, until their foreheads nearly touched, threading her fingers through the hair behind his neck. “If that is what you wish,” he murmured, and  _ stars _ she could almost taste his breath…

_ “Please,” _ she breathed.

Their first kiss was gentle, languid, tender… His lips were so soft, and he tasted so sweet, she felt on the brink of losing herself in him; and when he drew back from her she  _ ached. _

“Allura,” he purred, his eyes dark and half-lidded. Her own name had never sounded so captivating.

“Yes,” was all she could manage.

Their second was a fiery, passionate embrace. Her lips parted for his; his tongue slid against her, hot and slightly rough; and she felt the first hint of his fangs. Allura shivered; her hands caged his face, fisted in his hair as he clutched her desperately against him. A need she hadn’t felt in ten thousand years—not since before the war—rekindled inside her as she pressed herself to his warmth.

“Stars,” she gasped, when they pulled apart.

“Allura,” he murmured again—she would never tire of hearing him say it—”what is… What do we call this?”

Charmed by this newfound uncertainty, she reached up to softly stroke the side of his face. Against the plum-coloured flush on his cheeks, she fancied she could see the ghosts of his Altean marks. “Overdue, I think,” she hummed, tracing one of the jagged lines with a fingertip.

He chuckled quietly—the first genuine laugh she’d heard from him, she realized. “You had only to say the word. I might have obliged you some time ago.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, leaving her breathless once more. “You are a remarkable woman, Allura,” he continued, his voice low and sweet. “You’ve endured so much, and yet you still retain your capacity for kindness, for softness…”

“I would say the same of you, Lotor,” countered Allura. “You’ve survived for so long and seen so much; and  _ you _ still retain your capacity for wonder.” She smiled as she recalled the way his face had lit up when she’d activated the compass stone, and when they’d first set foot on Oriande. He looked rather the same now; and it swelled her heart to bursting.

“And why shouldn’t I, when the universe holds such wonders?” He smiled, brushing a stray curl from her face.

"Flatterer," she giggled, though she would have gladly had him go on. With a contented sigh, she tucked her head against his shoulder, cuddling up to his broad chest. She was still reeling with the excitement, the  _ newness _ of it all; delighting in the pleasant, comfortable weight of his arm around her, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat in her ear. She snaked her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I wish I could just stay like this forever.” She felt, more than heard, his amused huff.

“As much as I am enjoying this time, you need your rest, Princess,” he murmured against her hair. “I will still be here in the morning. I promise.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she reluctantly agreed. It was so late, and there would be so much to do tomorrow. Not to mention the reaction the Paladins would have if they were to walk in and find her spooning with Lotor… Still, she was not quite ready to be parted from him just yet. “Would you walk me to my room?” She looked up with a hopeful grin.

“Of course,” he smiled. “Did you want to get the sustenance you were looking for first? I wouldn’t want to send you to bed on an empty stomach.”

Allura glanced at the refrigeration unit, and shook her head. “I’m not hungry anymore,” she laughed as she got to her feet, and looped her arm through Lotor’s. “I’ve found something much better.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Stay with me.” Allura smiled up at Lotor, holding his hands in hers as they stood outside her door. She’d lost count of how many times they’d kissed goodnight and attempted to part already; perhaps because it was not what either of them wanted.

“I am not certain that would be wise,” he demurred, glancing sidelong down the corridor, “or proper.”

“Oh, _stuff_ proper!” she huffed, and let herself fall forward against his chest. “I just want to keep you close to me a while longer. Is that so terrible?”

“No, not terrible.” His breath was warm as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Unnecessary, perhaps? You'll be asleep, my dear; you won’t even miss me. Are you not tired?”

“Aren’t _you?”_ countered Allura, looking up with a pout. “Besides, how am I meant to sleep, thinking of you sitting all alone in the dark?”

“You could always unlock another room for me,” he chuckled, eyes brimming with amusement at her irritated glower.

“Ah, but then you would have to walk be back all over again”—she pulled his arms around her waist—”and I’m _much_ too tired for that.” With a coy grin, she batted her eyelashes at him; and when he laughed, she knew that she had won.

“Very well,” he relented. “As my Princess commands.”

Allura beamed, triumphant, and rewarded him with a kiss. “Thank you," she purred with just a touch of smugness.

She _was_ tired now, truth be told. She could feel the aches resulting from her climb in Oriande gathering in her back and arms, despite the long soak she’d indulged in before bed. Even so, she was not ready for the day—this magical, wonderful day—to end. She wanted to wring out every tick of it exploring her fledgling relationship with Lotor, learning everything about him that he was prepared to share, and even just... _being_ with him.

As they stepped inside, Lotor glanced around her chamber as though he’d never seen a bedroom before. It was rather endearing—the smooth, confident Emperor turned suddenly shy. Allura smiled and took his hand to lead him to the bed. “Don’t worry, it is quite comfortable,” she teased, “and I promise Coran isn’t hiding underneath to ambush you!”

“That is certainly reassuring…” His words trailed away as Allura shrugged out of her dressing gown,  leaving her arms bare. “Very reassuring indeed,” he repeated distractedly, as he reached out to brush his hand over the pale pink crescent on her shoulder. Her heart fluttered at his touch; she felt suddenly warm despite the cool air. She leaned into the caress, hoping for more, but Lotor stilled his hand; a puzzled frown creasing his brow. “Allura… why are there rodents on your pillow?”

“Oh...!” She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh as she turned around—the four Altean mice were curled up asleep, right where she had left them. Platt let out a cranky, indignant squeak as she scooped them all up to show Lotor. “These are Platt, Chuchule, Chulatt and Plachu. They’ve been with me for over ten thousand years!”

“I see,” he said, in a manner which implied he clearly did not; but he smiled at them anyway. “In that case, it is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the Princess’ trusted companions.”

Chuchule, still unimpressed by the rude awakening, squeaked something very rude indeed, and Allura’s cheeks flushed as she turned away with the mice, flashing Lotor an awkward, apologetic smile.

“I am sorry, friends,” she whispered, “but I must ask you to find somewhere else to sleep tonight—”

Plachu interrupted to voice his disapproval.

“Could we discuss it in the morning?” she pleaded.

All four of them crossed their paws over their furry little chests.

“Please?” she implored, with a chagrined smile. “I shall owe you a special treat.” The mice conferred for a few ticks, then nodded at last. A shake of paw and index finger sealed the deal. And the mice bounded to the floor, scampering off to parts unknown. Allura sighed with relief as she turned back to Lotor, who was sitting now on the edge of the bed, watching her with a bemused grin.

“What curious little creatures,” he remarked, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“They are _lovely_ ,” she retorted, her tone playfully arch, “and at least _they_ know better than to wear boots to bed!”

“My apologies,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I can only blame my terrible upbringing.”

“And no armour, either,” she scolded with an impish grin.

“As you wish, Princess.” He affected a put-upon sigh as he got to his feet.

Allura reclined against her pillows while she waited for him to peel back his various layers. It was intimate, she reflected, in more ways than just the obvious. Lotor was making himself vulnerable for her, and trusting that she would not harm him; she was certain it did not come easily. Indeed, here again he was uncharacteristically self-conscious, even turning away from her as he unclipped the half-skirt from his waist. Not that she minded the view, of course…

“Is this more acceptable?” All his protective plates removed, he held his arms out to his sides, presenting himself for inspection. Despite his lopsided grin, there was a touch of apprehension in the question, as though he feared she might actually find some fault. As though he _expected_ to be hurt—the thought left her with a cold, desolate ache in her chest.

“Much,” she beamed back at him, and outstretched her arms, inviting him to join her. She longed to hold him close to her, to erase all his worries with just the warmth of her body and the strength of her heart. Somewhere at the back of her mind, there was a brief flash of awareness of the surreality of her situation as Lotor carefully stretched out next to her, but she brushed it aside. She tapped her headboard to dim the lights, pulled the duvet up over them, and nestled against his chest, sighing contentedly when he draped his arm over her waist.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s perfect,” she hummed, drinking in his scent as she cuddled closer. She shut her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his pulse and breath, blissful and comfortable in her cozy nest.

But no matter how still she lay, or how she tried to untether her mind and drift off to sleep, her thoughts refused to be still. She was simply too energized to fall asleep, and much too _aware_ of the man lying beside her. _Lotor. Prince Lotor._ Emperor _Lotor._ In her bed. His lean, muscled body pressed against hers, with only his suit and her thin nightgown between them. Her skin tingled as though electrified, and her mind began to wander to thoughts of what he might look like _out_ of that suit, and what his skin would feel like against hers. The more she tried to push them down, the more intrusive they became, until the heat pooling in her belly became impossible to ignore. She shifted her hips slightly, trying to relieve the growing ache between her thighs, but that only served to make matters worse. With a small, frustrated sigh of defeat, she cracked her eyes open and looked up at Lotor. Blue and gold gleamed back at her.

“You aren’t sleeping,” he observed. She could hear the smirk in his words.

“Neither are you,” she retorted, with a playful poke to his chest. She briefly wondered if his distractions were the same as her own, and felt a little thrill hum through her.

“I wanted to watch you,” he murmured, “just for a little while.” There was a tender, almost sad note in his voice that tugged at her heart, and made it beat a little faster. “To assure myself that you would not disappear.” He brushed a loose curl back from her face, and caressed the mark at the corner of her eye with his thumb.

Allura caught his hand in hers, and brought his palm to her lips. “I am real,” she whispered, “and I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed him, softly at first, then more deeply when he pulled her against him; any lingering thoughts of sleep burned away by the flame of her longing. Her hands tangled in his soft, silken hair, and roamed the firm planes of his chest and shoulders while he caressed her back, her sides, her thighs. Every touch stoked her desire, until she writhed against him, reeling and wanton. Desperate to taste more of him, she fumbled for his suit’s fastener and tugged it down to his breastbone. She peeled aside his collar, relishing the way he shivered and bared his throat for her, and the low, growling moan he let out when she dragged her mouth over his skin. HIs grip on her waist tightened as she grazed his earlobe with her teeth, his breaths growing more ragged; and she felt the barest prickle of glaws pressed into her thigh.

“Feeling stressed?” she laughed against his neck.

“N-no,” he faltered, his voice charmingly strained. “There may be… other circumstances which I, ah… neglected to mention.”

“I see…” She could feel him now, pressing hot and hard against her stomach, his erection straining against the fabric of his suit. _‘Other circumstances’ indeed…_

“I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.” He shuffled awkwardly backward, and even in the low light Allura could see that he was flushed to the tips of his ears. “It’s just… It’s been some time—”

Allura shushed him with a finger over his lips. “I don’t mind.” She hooked her leg over his hip, pulling herself close to him once more. “At all.” She was aching now, and already so wet she could feel the slick smeared between her thighs. She slipped her hands inside the suit and pulled it open to his waist, exploring the expanse of smooth, warm skin, feeling the muscles ripple underneath as Lotor’s breath hitched in his chest.

“You are making it very difficult to control myself,” he rasped, fisting his hands in the fabric of her gown as she nibbled on his neck.

“Perhaps I don’t want you to.” Emboldened, she pressed herself more tightly to him, rolling her hips against the bulge in his suit. Lotor groaned, and crushed his lips against hers, his hands caging her face. A light sheen of sweat burnished his forehead.

"Allura,” he gasped between hungry kisses, “I don’t— _Void you’re so beautiful_ —I don’t want to do anything you might regret…”

“I only regret waiting so long.” With a sharp tug, she pulled the suit down over his shoulders. Lotor let go of her just long enough to free his arms, then lunged for her with a predatory growl, any pretense of decorum now abandoned as he devoured her with hot, toothy kisses. Allura arched into his touch as his hands slid deliciously over her bare skin, pushing her nightgown up over her waist. A moan escaped her lips as his claws brushed the underside of her breast, desire pulsing hot and sweet between her legs, and in her swollen nipples. When she could no longer bear the teasing, she pulled the nightdress off herself and drew Lotor’s head down to her chest, gasping in ecstasy as his mouth closed over the peak of her breast.

How long had it been since someone had touched her like this? She could scarcely recall… Her toes curled as Lotor swirled his tongue over her nipple while he caressed her other breast, rolling and pinching the stiffened bud at its peak. His other hand slipped between her legs, claws ghosting up the inside of her thigh until he reached the spot where she was wet and aching. With a satisfied hum, he slipped two fingers between her swollen lips, stroking the slick, sensitive flesh with maddening languor until Allura thought she might combust; and when those fingers curled inside her— _oh stars…!_ But it wasn’t his hand that she wanted.

Allura skimmed her fingers down his stomach, dragging her nails lightly around his navel and over the trail of wispy white hairs below it before sliding her hand beneath what was left of his clothing. Lotor groaned into her chest, his hips jerking involuntarily as she grasped him, her eager fingers curling around his shaft, investigating the shape of him. It was thick, with a slight bulge at the base, and richly textured with pronounced ridges that seemed to flare at her touch. He was almost as slick as she was; her hand slid easily over his length, eliciting another loud growl from deep within his chest. She imagined what he would feel like inside her, and she _throbbed_ , soaking Lotor’s hand with a fresh rush of fluids. He lifted his head to hers once more, breathless and flushed, and Allura thought she’d never seen a man so beautiful.

“Let me see you,” she crooned, catching his lips between each word. “Let me _feel_ you.” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. It was barely the work of a dobosh to get the rest of his clothes off, and at last she got the view she’d been waiting for. Lotor was exquisitely made; long and lean with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, toned muscles taut under the warm velvet of his skin. He was almost hairless, save for what was on his head and between his legs—a well groomed patch of white just above his cock. She could see now that it was a dark violet colour, slightly curved back towards his body, glistening between those ridges, and dripping a pale, pearlescent fluid from a deep slit in the swollen head. Appreciatively, she stroked him with the very tips of her fingers, admiring the way he jerked at her touch, and the way his eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his head back into the pillows. Her knowledge of Galran anatomy being somewhat superficial, she hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he was… “Magnificent,” she purred.

Lotor opened his eyes, blown wide and dark with desire, and sat up to wrap his arms around her waist. “And you are more dazzling than all the wonders of Oriande.” His voice was low and husky, roughened by lust, and it stirred Allura’s own need even further. “My Allura,” he breathed, reverent, as he brushed his lips across the hollow of her throat.

Allura pushed herself up on her knees, dragging her body along his length as the rose, and reached down to stroke him again. She ached to be full of him, but the anticipation—and the soft, needy sounds he made when she squeezed _just so_ between his ridges—were so delicious that she forced herself to hold off for just a few ticks more. Any longer would have been cruelty, or masochism.

Bracing herself against his shoulders, she lowered her hips inch by delectable inch, gasping with pleasure as each ridge slipped past her entrance and dragged over the delicate creases of flesh just inside. Lotor let out a shaky moan as she sheathed him fully. Ravenous, his mouth sought hers again; one hand splayed over the small of her back, the other knotting in her hair as they began to move together. The pace was languid at first, each merely reveling in the novel experience of the other’s body; but soon this was not enough for either of them. The curve and ridges of Lotor’s cock pushed against all her most sensitive spots as they rocked harder against each other, and already she felt the pressure building at her core, pleasure rising toward a dizzying peak. Allura gave herself over to the sensations; their sweat-slicked bodies writhing together, his hands and mouth moving hungrily over her body as he thrust into her, her breath coming in ragged little moans as she rode him.

Just as she was about to crest that summit, Lotor pulled away, lifting her up off his lap with a muttered curse, and she found herself laid back on the bed, empty and wanting—but only for a tick. His mouth was on her once more, tracing a searing line down her belly, along the hollow of her hip bone, to the hinge of her thigh.

“Not just yet,” he murmured against her fevered skin. “Allow me to enjoy you just a little longer…” The only response she could manage was a desperate cry as he bent his head to her sex, teasing apart her swollen lips. His tongue was everywhere, thrusting inside her, licking between her folds, swirling over her clit, driving her mad with pleasure, pushing her closer to the edge once again. Her chest heaved and her hands fisted in the bedclothes as he pushed two fingers inside her, pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the front of her passage, teasing her with the hint of a claw but always so careful not to scratch.

“Please,” she panted, rocking her hips upward, fucking herself on his fingers. “Please, please, _oh_ —” His lips closed around her clit, and Allura _screamed_ as the force of her orgasm overcame her, arching half off the bed, stars flashing in her eyes.

As the waves of ecstasy ebbed, she collapsed breathless into the pillows, and reached for Lotor as he moved to lie between her legs. She caged his face with trembling hands as she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. His hand caressed down her side, claws grazing along the curve of her waist and the length of her thigh, then pulled her knee up over his hip. His arousal pressed against her belly, slick and throbbing; and she canted her hips to grind against him, delighted by his moans and shivers.

“Allura,” he rasped, brushing his fangs along the edge of her ear, “may I?”

“Yes,” she sighed, still hazy with euphoria. “Oh, yes.”

He slid into her easily now, as though he was made just for her. The sensations were almost too much for her to bear so soon after her own climax, but it was a heavenly excess. Allura bucked her hips eagerly to meet his thrusts, wholly abandoned to their shared pleasure. She dragged her nails down his back, gasping out his name as that sweet tension coiled around her spine once more.

“Allura I can’t…” he moaned, faltering in his pace. “I’m close—”

“Don’t stop,” she urged breathlessly in his ear, twisting his hair around her fingers. “Don’t, don’t— _oh Ancients!”_ Her eyes flew open wide as she felt him swell inside her, the sudden fullness and pressure against her inner walls sending her over the edge again. Her hoarse, high cries overlapped with his near-feral growl as they came together, spent and shuddering. Lotor collapsed against her with an exhausted huff, panting for breath. Allura clung to him, still shaking, stroking his back as they came down from their high, his body a comfortable weight on hers. He was still swollen inside her; she couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick; almost slurred. “I just need a few doboshes… I ought to have said something, but I was”—he cleared his throat awkwardly—”distracted.”

“It’s alright,” she softly hummed. She ran her fingers through his tousled hair, smiling when she was rewarded with a soft chuffing sound in her ear. It was _different_ , and definitely surprising, but she liked it; liked having him there, held fast to her… “You’re fine right where you are.”

 

**Epilogue**

Lance was worried. This time, maybe—just _maybe_ —he had gone too far. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, hilarious even; give Lotor directions to the utility closet instead of the room Coran had unlocked. He’d figured Lotor would think he’d misremembered and just come back to ask again, and then Lance could get another good razzing in; but he hadn’t turned up again. At first he’d still thought it was a pretty danged good prank—after all it wasn’t like the guy needed any beauty rest, right?—but as he was lying in his bed trying to get to sleep, Lance started to feel a little bad about it. The castle was so big, and easy to get lost in if you weren’t used to it. It could get pretty cold at night, too... And on top of that nagging guilt was the very real fear of the chewing-out he was in for if Lotor decided to narc on him to Shiro or Allura.

There was no other option. As much as it pained him, he would have to suck it up and— _ugh_ —apologize to Lotor. He’d gotten up early, even skipped half of his morning skin care routine—which, hello, he deserved some credit for that sacrifice, at least—hoping to get to him before it was too late. There was just one teeny little problem: he couldn’t find him anywhere. He’d looked in all the lounges, the kitchen, the training room, the observation deck, and everywhere else he could think of—no dice—and now he was in the dining hall. bemoaning his fate to a surprisingly unsympathetic audience made up of Hunk, Pidge, and Matt.

“You did _what?_ ” Pidge snorted, her spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth.

“Keep your voice down!” Lance glanced nervously down the table to where Shiro and Coran were sitting, talking about star charts or space taxes or something. He groaned, and slumped forward with his head on his arms. “I just thought it’d be funny!”

“Uh, dude offed Zarkon,” Hunk said around a mouthful of food goo. “Maybe you oughta just lay off in general.”

“Et tu, Hunk?” Lance moaned into the table.

“Enh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” said Pidge, with an extremely suspect snicker, “looks like he found somewhere to sleep just fine.”

“Huh?” He lifted his head just in time to see Allura walking in, arm in arm with Lotor. Lance’s jaw dropped, along with his stomach; Allura was positively _glowing_ , and Lotor looked more smug and self-satisfied than ever. “Oh come _on_.”

“I’m no expert”—Matt leaned over, waving his spork with a smirk—”but I think that’s called _karma_.”


End file.
